


The Generals Are Born Again

by Luka



Series: Iceman [10]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-31
Updated: 2008-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Stephen and Ryan are on the end of some private and professional upheavals</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Generals Are Born Again

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[ditzy](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/ditzy), [fic](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [finn](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/finn), [iceman](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/iceman), [lester](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/lester), [lyle](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/lyle), [nick](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/nick), [preston](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/preston), [ryan](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/ryan), [series](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/series), [slash](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/slash), [stephen](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/stephen)  
  
  
---|---  
  
  
Title:  The Generals Are Born Again  
Author: Luka  
Characters: Stephen Hart, Tom Ryan, Jon Lyle, Nick Cutter, James Lester, Ditzy, Finn, Major Preston  
Rating: 18  
Disclaimer: Not mine (apart from Major Preston), I'm just playing and won't make a penny out of them. I'll put them back when I'm finished, honest!  
Spoilers: Series 2.1 – sort of.  
Pairing: Stephen/Ryan  
Summary:  Stephen and Ryan are on the end of some private and professional upheavals  
A/N: Number ten in The Iceman series. Jon Lyle and the rest of the SF lads appear by kind permission of [](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/profile)[**fredbassett**](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/) (and thanks to her, as always, for the beta). There are links to the earlier stories at the top of my LJ.

  


"Hey, that sounded bad." Stephen was lying on his side, stroking Ryan's damp hair.

"Sorry …"

"Don't apologise. You can't do much about nightmares. Come here."

And Ryan allowed Stephen to pull him into his arms and kiss his hot forehead. He liked the fact that Stephen didn't crowd him or bombard him with questions. And it felt good to have someone there holding him. He remembered too many sleepless nights on his own where he'd lain staring at the gap in the curtains, or sat on the windowsill gazing blindly out into the dark.

The fourth or fifth time it happened, it was near dawn on a Saturday morning.  Stephen went downstairs and made them bacon sandwiches and tea, and they had breakfast in bed.

Eventually Stephen said: "How long's this been going on for?"

Ryan shrugged. "They were several times a week at one point, then once or twice a month, then they disappeared altogether for about six months."

"And they've come back again recently?"

Ryan nodded.

"Have you talked to anyone about them?"

"Nope. Ditzy wanted me to, but I don't see the point. They'll go eventually. It's a hazard of the job."

"Christ, Tom!"

"What?"

"That's the saddest thing I've heard, assuming these go with the job. Isn't it worth trying to see if someone can help you?"

Ryan shrugged again. "I'll be fine." He kissed the top of Stephen's head and glanced at his watch. "You fancy a walk down to the shop for the papers and then a bike ride later?"

~*~*~*

"Boss, you look like shit." Ditzy had the contents of his backpack spread out on a table and was meticulously checking them.

"Thanks a bunch."

"Well, you do. Stephen keeping you up all night, is he, to coin a phrase?"

"Other way round, more like …" muttered Ryan. And he knew immediately that Ditzy had seen beyond the double entendre.

"The nightmares are back?"

"Yep."

"How often?"

"Five in ten days."

"Same one?"

"Yep. And before you say it, it's not affecting …"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"Just a fucking minute …"

"No, you listen to me for a minute, boss. You need to deal with this and you need to deal with it soon before it fucks up your professional and your private life. And I can assure you that if I reckon you're not firing on all cylinders out on the job, I'm going straight to Major Preston."

"Fuck you, Ditzy!" Ryan rarely lost his temper, but he knew he was about to explode any second.

"Whatever. Sir." Ditzy glared at him and turned pointedly back to his backpack.

~*~*~*

Ryan was taking out his anger on a punchbag in the gym when the shouting started. When he, Lyle and Kermit hurtled into the changing rooms, they found Finn and another man slugging it out on the ground.

"What the fuck's all this about?" Ryan grabbed hold of Finn and with Kermit's help hauled him backwards. Lyle and Tait restrained the other guy who Ryan now recognised as one of Jack Griffiths's team.

"Nothing, sir." Finn dabbed at his bleeding nose.

"Nothing … Sir." The other bloke, who Ryan thought was called Nelson, stared at him challengingly. He was going to have a hell of a shiner in the morning.

"Lot of fucking noise for nothing." Ryan knew he wouldn't get anything out of them. Special Forces honour dictated that you didn't dob the other person in, no matter how big a tosser they were. "You've obviously got too much fucking energy going spare, and Sgt Tait needs some muscle to move those boxes over to the armoury."

"Sir." Finn looked resigned.

"Sir." Nelson regarded him with clear dislike. He was a newish recruit and Ryan didn't remember having had anything to do with him before. Griffiths, though, was an unmitigated fuckwit and he seemed to have collected similar men around him.

It was lunchtime before Ryan could get Finn alone to find out what was going on.

"Right, Finn, let's have the truth. What the fuck was all that about?"

Finn was silent for an age before saying reluctantly: "He said all this stuff, boss."

"All what stuff?"

"About you and Lieutenant Lyle. All of Captain Griffiths's lot have been spouting homophobic shit for a couple of weeks."

"Ignore it." Ryan wasn't surprised. Griffiths was an arrogant twat with the charisma of a dead traffic warden. He and Ryan had never got on, and Ryan wasn't surprised that the fucker was mouthing off. Naturally he hadn't got the balls to do it to Ryan's face.

"I did, boss, but then Nelson started on about how we must all be queer … I just got sick of the sound of his whining voice and decked him one. Fucking Welsh wanker!"

"I know he deserved it, but keep away from him. If Preston hears, he'll raise hell." As Ryan said it, he knew it was a matter of when the major heard, not if.

~*~*~*

Major Preston was a 40-something Yorkshireman whose broad accent and vivid language belied his public school and Oxbridge education. As Ditzy once said, navvies and dockers lined up reverentially at his door for swearing lessons. His men liked and respected him, but knew that he had a toleration level for slackers and arseholes in minus numbers.

"So what was all that bollocks about earlier?"

"Nothing, sir." Ryan stood to attention in front of the large, oak desk.

"Ryan, I don't give a buggering fuck whether you shag goats, just so long as it doesn't interfere with your professional life."

"Sir."

"And I'd be a bit sodding disappointed if your lads didn't stand up for you. But tell young Finn to use what brain he has to choose his fucking moment better. He might as well have sent out engraved frigging invitations for the show."

"Sir."

"Griffiths is a shit-for-brains load of trouble, Ryan, and so are half of his fucking team. They haven't got a sodding brain cell between them. You didn't hear this from me, but they're shipping the fuckers off to Afghanistan in a fortnight. So stay out of their way, and tell your lads to do the same. Next one out of line's going to have to explain himself to me."

"Yessir."

Preston sighed, and reached for the coffee pot, meaning the messy business was over. He poured two mugs full and passed one over to Ryan, who knew this was a signal to sit down.

"So Lyle's got his cock up a very important arse?"

Ryan nodded. Preston didn't miss anything. A mouse couldn't fart in Hereford without him knowing about it first, and court-martialling the rodent.

"Whole fucking place is turning queer." But it was said without malice, and Ryan knew Preston was the least prejudiced of men. "Serious?"

"I'd say so."

"Hmm. Might give us an advantage if he's got friends in high places."

Ryan shrugged. "Depends what happens with the anomaly project."

"Most insane fucking thing I've ever seen. I'm due at a meeting in London tomorrow about it."

"This proposed research centre?"

Preston's eyebrows shot up into his hair. "How did you hear about that? Pillow talk between Lyle and Lester?"

"Nope. Stephen saw an email about it on Cutter's computer."

"It's supposed to be need to know basis for the meeting, but you're coming with me. We need to know what these fucking academics and pen-pushers are trying to railroad through. To be quite honest, I don't see how we can justify tying up highly-trained Special Forces personnel much longer. If the stuffed shirts want security, they'd better buy it in and leave us to do the job we're paid to do."

~*~*~*

When Ryan got home, Stephen was working at the living room table, his laptop open and a pile of books beside him. He closed the laptop and put it on a shelf beside the books.

"You finished?" Ryan kissed the top of Stephen's head.

"It'll keep. Just doing some research for a paper. You want a cup of tea and something to eat?"

"Yes please. And you know what I fancy? Cheese on toast."

"Coming right up …"

Ryan followed him through to the kitchen and sat down at the table. Stephen wasn't much of a cook, but he seemed keen to have a go. Ryan was fine on easy stuff like steak and pasta. The first weekend after Stephen moved in, they'd cooked a roast between them, dirtying every pan in the kitchen and laughing like a couple of kids at the mess they were making. Suddenly it didn't seem important to Ryan that everything had to be immaculate all the time. Having someone else there who loved him was all that mattered.

It was taking Stephen a while to relax and to treat the place as his home, and Ryan knew this wasn't going to happen overnight. Several times Stephen had corrected himself from "we'll sort it when we get back to yours" to "we'll sort it when we get home." Ryan counted that as progress.

He seemed obsessively tidy, and if it wasn't for his CDs and DVDs on the shelf in the living room, it was almost like he wasn't there. It reminded Ryan of kids scrunching themselves up small so they weren't taking up any space.

"You look pissed off." Stephen slid the toasted cheese out from under the grill, then spooned some baked beans onto the plates.

"One of those fucking days. I had an earful from Ditzy, Finn got into a fight protecting my honour, and I got a bollocking from Preston."

Stephen set the plate in front of him and kissed the top of his head. "One at a time, I think, starting with Finn riding to your rescue …"

Ryan drenched his toasted cheese in Worcestershire Sauce, giving Stephen the finger when he pulled a face. "Silly fucker got into a fight with a lad from one of the other teams who was spouting homophobic bullshit. There was never a cat in hell's chance of keeping it quiet from Preston, who's got a better informer network than the sodding KGB ever had."

"So you got it in the neck?"

"He effed and blinded a lot, which was par for the course, then griped about the anomaly project. He's making me go up to London with him tomorrow for some meeting at the Home Office. Has Cutter mentioned it?"

"Nope. But I haven't checked his emails for a couple of days …"

Just as they were finishing the meal, Ryan's mobile went off. It was Lyle, wanting the lowdown on Finn and the brawl and the meeting with Preston. So it was only much later that Ryan realised he'd got away without telling Stephen about the bollocking from Ditzy. He rather suspected his lover would take the medic's side.

~*~*~*

When Ryan got into bed, Stephen was reading a book. He set it aside immediately, his eyes never leaving Ryan.

"Hey …" Ryan tipped Stephen's chin upwards and kissed his lips. "OK?"

Stephen nodded.

"You don't have to stop reading on my behalf …"

Stephen shrugged and Ryan pulled him into his arms, gently stroking his hair and tracing his fingers down the long, smooth back. He felt Stephen shiver and burrow closer to him. And that gorgeous body wriggling against his made him hard in an instant.

That was pretty much his default setting around Stephen. The sex was sensational, but Stephen never instigated it. He would kiss and cuddle, but left it to Ryan to make the first move in bed. And Ryan knew he couldn't say anything without knocking Stephen's already fragile self-esteem.

He tried another tack. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what makes you feel good."

"You do. Everything."

And this much appeared to be true. Stephen was so responsive. He seemed to prefer lying on his back, long legs spread wide, so they could kiss while they made love. But he never protested when Ryan turned him over onto his hands and knees so the soldier could watch his thick cock splitting Stephen's tight arse.

Ryan lay back and stroked his cock, smiling as Stephen watched it hungrily. "You want to try something else?"

Stephen nodded and Ryan noticed with a pang of something approaching sadness that he didn't ask what, simply content to do whatever Ryan wanted.

"OK, you sit on top of me, facing away …"

Stephen obeyed, and Ryan watched him sink down, the muscles in his thighs bunching with the effort.

"You all in?" Stephen's voice was hoarse.

"Yep." Ryan grabbed Stephen's waist and manoeuvred him backwards until he was lying on top of the soldier.

Stephen gasped at the change in position. "Oh fuck …"

"If you insist …" Ryan set up a fast rhythm, thrusting upwards. And as Stephen was wriggling on top of him, he eased him up so that he was sitting upright on Ryan's cock, his legs spread wide.

"Oh god, you're going to kill me!" Stephen whimpered uncontrollably as Ryan upped the rhythm.

They were both sweating heavily, and from the broken moans Ryan suspected he was hitting Stephen's prostate with every stroke. And then Stephen was coming, jerking himself off and clenching tight to finish off Ryan.

"Fucking Norah …" Stephen rolled off Ryan and flopped onto his front.

"Fucking Norah good or fucking Norah bad?"

"Fucking Norah that put me through the roof!"

Ryan kissed his neck and trailed his tongue down Stephen's spine. "Hereford's got a proud history of UFOs. So a well-fucked scientist floating over the rooftops probably passes for normal around here."

"Certainly more normal than some of those slopey-foreheaded SAS lads you see around the place … Ouch … don't … stop that … OK, OK, I take it back!"

~*~*~*

Stephen got off the train, slung his rucksack on his shoulder and headed for the campus. The commute wasn't too bad – about an hour – and some days he worked at home. He'd set up wireless so he could use the laptop anywhere in the house. But he found himself working mostly at the dining table, with its view over the garden. Nick hadn't said anything, as most of the other research assistants worked from home as well for part of the week. And god knows he was owed enough hours from the anomaly project.

And that was starting to get serious. They'd had another spate of them, and Lester was really starting to twitch. And he and Nick were at each other's throats over Helen. Lester blamed Nick for letting her escape.

It was a minute or two after 9am as Stephen ran up the stairs to their office, and he was amazed to see the door open. Nick rarely arrived before 10am, but he was sitting at his desk. And he clearly wasn't happy.

"Morning." Stephen dumped his rucksack and took his jacket off.

"You're coming with me to London."

"When?" And good morning to you too, thought Stephen wryly.

"Today. I was about to phone you and find out where the fuck you were. It must be serious – Lester's sending a car for us in about 15 minutes."

Stephen resisted the temptation to say it was probably to make sure that Cutter actually turned up on time and in the right place.

"So what's it about?"

"He wouldn't say. But my money's on this bloody research centre he keeps banging on about. Yes, what is it?"

A man dressed in a dark suit stood in the office doorway. "Professor Cutter?"

"That's me."

"Sir James sent me to take you and Dr Hart to the meeting."

"OK. Come on Stephen, let's get going."

~*~*~*

"I thought we'd agreed this meeting was for the organ grinders, Major Preston." Lester leaned back in his chair and arched an eyebrow.

"I'm sure Captain Ryan will be delighted to hear that you classify him as a monkey, Sir James. And I note that Professor Cutter has brought his research assistant with him …"

"Clearly my definition of organ grinders doesn't tally with that of either the SAS or CMU. But seeing as the cast of thousands is here, it had better stay. At least we should be grateful that the professor has spared us Daphne and Scrappy."

Ryan stared straight ahead, not daring to catch Stephen's eye. And he kept a straight face as Preston said: "I was more a Flashing Blade man myself. Now, if we can get down to business …"

Ryan was developing a grudging liking for Lester, although he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. But he had to admit he'd got this research centre planned out minutely – and had persuaded the PM to stump up the cash. The budget was eye-watering, but it covered a specialist team of scientists to back up Stephen and Cutter, who were to be seconded from the university for a year in the first instance, plus the security team. And Ryan could see that Preston was on to a loser with his suggestion of a private force – there was no way Lester was going to let this one outside of the government grasp.

"So when's it going to be ready?" Cutter seemed excited at the thought of all these specialist facilities for him to play with.

"We've identified the building and conversion work can start almost immediately. We're looking at September, which would of course fit in with the start of the academic year."

Cutter nodded. "I'll leave you to negotiate with the Dean."

"I shall enjoy that little delight," said Lester dryly.

"He'll be fine once he sees the colour of your money."

"Right, I think that wraps it up, gentlemen. We'll meet again in a month to review progress. And it looks like the monkeys will be part of the act."

Preston stood up. "Right, we'll be off. Dr Hart, you're welcome to hitch a lift back to Hereford with us."

"Thank you, sir. Nick, I'll see you tomorrow."

Cutter nodded vaguely, still transfixed by the plans. As they left, they could hear him grilling Lester on the size of the laboratories, and whether this meant they could take on Connor and Abby officially as part of the team.

~*~*~*

"Bloody hell, does the Major never stop talking?" Stephen flopped onto the sofa and closed his eyes.

"Not often."

"And he swears more than you do."

"Cheeky fucker!"

"I assume he's an interrogation specialist?"

"Ah, you noticed. You got the lift home so he could give you the once-over and then grill you on Lester and the project."

"You reckon Lester'll get his full-time Special Force deployment?"

"Dead cert. Preston'll huff and puff and gripe to Colonel Jackson, but it's all willy-waving … Fuck, who's that?" The doorbell made them both jump.

"Get rid of them quick as you can, then we can go out for an Indian. I'd kill for a decent curry. Home Office sarnies are worse than the uni ones, and that's saying something."

"OK, but let's have a cup of tea before we go."

Ryan opened the front door. The couple on the step were 50-something and smartly dressed.

"If you're pimping God, don't even bother to open your mouths. If you're selling anything else, I don't buy on the doorstep." He started to close the door.

"No, we're trying to find Stephen Hart."

At that moment Stephen appeared from the kitchen, pausing to glance at the couple on the doorstep.

"Stephen …"

"Yes?"

"Don't you recognise us?"

"No. Who are you?"

"Your parents."

"No. Go away." Ryan saw his eyes widen with horror. He'd gone white.

"We'd like to see you. We've come a long way …"

"So had I when I was in New Zealand and you were too busy to see me."

"We're sorry. We really would like to spend some time getting to know you again."

"I'm not interested. I don't need you in my life."

Ryan made a decision. "Would you wait a minute, please?" Then he took Stephen by the arm and gently drew him down the hallway. "It's your call, but isn't this a great chance for closure?"

"Spare me the shrink speak …" Stephen's voice was cold and distant.

"Stephen, don't shut me out. Give them ten minutes, hear what they've got to say, then get them out of your life."

It seemed like an age before Stephen said: "OK. But any crap and they're out of here straightaway."

"D'you want me to stay or go upstairs?"

"Stay, please." The response was immediate. And Stephen managed a weak smile when Ryan kissed him briefly on the lips.

Stephen yanked the door open and said brusquely: "You've got ten minutes to say what you want to say, then you're out of here and out of my life again."

They followed him through into the living room and sat down on the sofa, staring around. Stephen sat in the armchair, radiating tension. Ryan perched on the arm of the chair. He was intrigued already by the dynamics. Stephen's mother, who looked nothing like him, was the one taking the lead. His father, who had the same tall, rangy build and deep blue eyes, so far had said nothing.

"Aren't you going to offer us something to drink?"

"No. And how the fuck did you find me?"

"There's no need for that sort of language, Stephen …"

"How the fuck did you find me?"

"We Googled you, then traced you through the university. A nice Scottish man who said he was your boss gave us your address when we told him who we were."

"He had no right to do that."

Ryan was inclined to agree and decided to have a word or two about respecting people's privacy next time he saw Cutter.

"You didn't send us a change of address …"

"No point, you wouldn't use it."

"Stephen, you're not making this easy …"

"Why should I? And you've got nine minutes left."

"We just wanted to see you again and find out what you've been doing with your life."

"I can't imagine why, as you weren't interested in me for the first 16 years of my life. But if you must know … BSc, MSc, voluntary work in South America, PhD, job as a research assistant in a university, job working on a Home Office research project."

"Oh. You know Deborah is a partner in her law firm. And she's got two children. Her husband's a barrister, and he's been chosen for a safe Tory seat at the next election. They've got this lovely big house in Surrey."

"Good for them."

"Yes. We wondered if you'd be married with children …"

"No. The only person I shall be marrying is Tom."

"Oh, you mean …?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Deborah didn't say."

"She doesn't know, which isn't surprising considering I haven't seen her since you left."

"Didn't you go to the wedding?"

"She didn't invite me."

"Oh."

"Why are you here?"

"Because we want to see you."

"No, why are you in England?"

"Your father's in London on business, so we thought we'd combine that with some sightseeing and visiting people."

"Very nice. Two minutes left. You can use that to answer another question for me."

"Of course."

"Why did you leave me?"

She frowned, uncomprehendingly. "Because you were doing your GSCEs. We didn't want to uproot you."

"You could have delayed going for a few months, or arranged for me to join you later."

"Well, yes, but we …" She stopped, glancing at her husband who, Ryan noticed, looked away.

"Didn't have a place in your life for me. I was an inconvenience, to be offloaded onto someone else." Stephen stood up. "I'd like to say it's been nice to see you again, but I'd be lying if I did. You had no need for me in your life. Now I have no need for you in mine. Please don't contact me again."

The moment the front door slammed, all the strength seemed to disappear from Stephen's legs, and only Ryan's arms around his waist stopped him from falling. Ryan managed to guide him to the bottom stair, then sat down beside him, trying to absorb the violent shakes into his own body. He kissed the top of Stephen's head, murmuring quietly: "Stephen, it's OK, they've gone, they're out of your life …"

Stephen sat up, running his fingers through his hair. He was very pale and his eyes looked dead. "I'm sorry about all of that …"

"Don't be. You're well shot of them."

Stephen nodded. "The first couple of years after they left, I kept thinking they'd come back and tell me what a mistake they'd made leaving me behind, or send me a ticket to go and join them. And I wondered whether they ever had any feelings for me. Now I know they didn't. You're right. I've got closure."

Ryan nodded and reached for Stephen's hand, entwining their fingers. "Stephen, can I ask you something?"

Stephen nodded.  
   
"Will you marry me?"

"Tom … Yes, oh yes!" And suddenly those blue eyes were alive again.  



End file.
